A Quiet Window
by skinnyrita
Summary: All is still and sleepy under the roof of no. 12. Harry and Hermione, unable to sleep, have a companiable conversation in this quiet window of tranquility. oneshot. not a hphg ship


There's so much doom and gloom in the Harry Potter Fansphere. I decided to document a rare conversation between Harry and Hermione, when all is still and quiet for once. Enjoy. **

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**A Quiet Window.**

**By skinnyrita**

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Shades of night were filtering through the open window above their heads, the skylight opening out to a velvety midnight blue infinity speckled with stars and the yellowy moon, it's edge visible just over the sill. In a creaky attic room laid out below, about twenty worn and battered sleeping bags of varying colours were squashed higgledy-piggledy across the floor, occupied by what seemed to be bulky shapes topped with tufts of hair, but were in fact the bodies of sleeping wizards.

"Harry?" a loud whisper penetrated the darkness.

"What?"

"Were you asleep?"

Harry sat up and leaned on an elbow, squinting in the general direction of the voice. "No. I can't. Too quiet."

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, do you want to go downstairs?"

"…It's cold." Hermione grinned sheepishly in her friend's direction, seeking him out in the darkness and focusing on the green glint of his eyes, peeking out from under the bushy eyebrows she'd given up trying to persuade him to pluck a bit. Both he and Ron had bushy eyebrows, she randomly decided. They seemed to think that excess facial hair was manly. Clearly it was more monkey. She jumped. A big baggy hoodie had just been tossed onto her legs.

"Come on, or we'll wake everyone else up."

They wriggled out of their bags and picked their way over and around the softly snoring, gently grunting figures obscuring the path to the doorway. The floor was freezing beneath their bare feet, forcing them to hop along slightly. As they slipped out of the trap door, all concentration was required not to miss a rung on the ancient ladder, and accidentally put their foot through the dark gaps in between. Hermione reached out with her foot, and found that she had reached the landing of the third floor. She descended the rest of the ladder with shaky knees, pulling the huge sweatshirt over her head when she was safely on the floor. She cuddled into herself. The hoodie smelt like Harry, it had that distinctive clean boy, fabric conditioner and cheap aftershave smell, which combined to almost mask the personal scent of the wearer.

Said boy appeared at her shoulder. "Bloody hell, it's _freezing_ round here. First thing I'm doing with this house after the war is getting some proper muggle central heating installed."

"Brrr, my feet… do you want to go to the library? I was going to suggest the kitchen, but I'm not walking down another two floors in the dark."

"Hermione, you're going in the wrong direction. _Lumos_. It's this way, come on."

The Black family library was decidedly creepy at night, all whispery and slightly defensive, as though the books knew that their space was under invasion by non-pure-blooded, non-Blacks, who had no place in their house. The two teenagers had brought down their wands, but sometimes the night wards were a bit jumpy over certain spells, so Harry set about making up a fire the muggle way in the old grate. Luckily there were still a few embers burning from use during the day, and he was able to feed this into a new fire without too much help from Hermione. They drew the low reading couch as close to the fireplace as possible, and curled up on it together, companionably.

"So is there anything up?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I just… miss this, you know? Things have been so hectic. I know it must be even worse for you…" to Harry's horror, not to mention her own, tiny tears began forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Hermione," said Harry, his voice growing slightly strained as he hugged her awkwardly, "please, don't. I'm fine, I _am_, and I promise I would tell you if I wasn't." Hermione snuggled a little further into his body heat, embarrassed.

"It's just so scary," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around her a little more securely.

"Buck up Bushy," he prodded her lightly, knowing that the nickname he and Ron had invented for her would cheer her up a little. It was a name that had actually begun as an insult hurled childishly at her by Pansy Parkinson on their last day of school. Harry and Ron had thought it was such a funny and pointless barb that they quickly adopted it as a pet name, something that seemed to comfort Hermione. Harry shifted so that Hermione's elbow was digging less dangerously near to his more sensitive areas. "Come on, let's talk about something else… what's going on with you and Ron now?"

Hermione groaned inaudibly, "nothing. I don't think he likes me that way."

"Hermione, you cannot honestly be that blind. He's just worried you'll say no and then you won't want to talk to him ever, ever again! Not meaning to get all girly and emotional about this, but maybe you should just ask him."

"I can't ask him, I'm the girl, it's degrading not having anyone to ask you out," Hermione said indignantly, prodding him a little back. "The only boy who's ever asked me out is Viktor, and I was too young anyway, I didn't even snog him, even though I heard that Ginny has persuaded Ron that it went much further. That's probably why he hasn't asked me out –thinks I've been giving it to everyone!"

"Hermione, you are so stupid for a clever person. You know Ron hasn't had any experience with girls, bar Lavender, and to be honest, I reckon he was dead scared of her most of the time; we spent hours hiding from her because he was afraid to dump her. Anyway, he's probably convinced himself that Krum provided you with more experience than he could ever live up to, especially since Ginny's been winding him up."

"But that's ridiculous!"

"Yeah well, guys are ridiculous. Trust me, I am one."

Hermione laughed. "Harry, you scare with your occasional wise advice. Tell me what's going on with you and Ginny."

Harry tensed. "Nothing's going to happen, Hermione. It was fun while it lasted but I meant it when I decided to end it. She'd become a target, and I couldn't have that."

Hermione wriggled round to face him. She scrutinised him at close range. He swallowed. "It's not just that, is it?"

Harry flicked his gaze to the fireplace. "I don't know what you mean," he muttered, in a slightly warning tone.

"Harry…"

"Please don't make me talk about this. You always know everything. Don't tell me, please."

"Harry, lots of boys your age who haven't had a great deal of experience-"

"_Hermione_…"

"-Start to question their sexuality."

Harry's expression turned stony. "Don't tell Ron."

"You know I won't."

"I do like girls, Hermione. You know I wouldn't lead Ginny on like that."

"I know. Did you… speak to her about it?"

"She knows there's more behind my reasons than her safety. I feel like such a _git_, Hermione! And I'm not gay. Things just changed."

Hermione bit her lip and turned his head slightly so that he would meet her gaze again. "I've thought there might be something between you and Malfoy since fifth year." Harry's gaze was focused on her shoulder. She wet her lips cautiously. "Then I saw your face after Dumbledore… after it happened. Harry…"

"Ron's going to kill me," said Harry humourlessly, the back of his head hitting the worn back of the sofa.

"Ron doesn't need to know, Harry."

"How did you know it was him?"

"Well, I knew it wasn't Ron! Harry, is there seriously any other boy who has so much… _status_ in your life as Malfoy? I'm not saying you two don't still absolutely detest each other, and with good reason, but you'd notice immediately if he wasn't there. …Talk to me?"

"I cheated on Ginny." Harry felt Hermione's gaze sharpen and train in on his expression. He frowned. "Malfoy and I were fighting after a quidditch practice. I was in the changing rooms and he came in to look for something. We argued. He was saying how I was after something Ginny couldn't provide. He _knew_. We started hexing each other. At some point he got my wand or I got his, anyway, it turned into a fist fight and then he started kissing me, I'm not even sure _how_…"

"Oh, _Harry_… I don't know what to say."

"Ginny and I never slept together. I don't mind waiting until I'm twenty-five… being with Malfoy ruined everything. We _had each other first_, Hermione! I felt so, so guilty! And then I got my quidditch ban and nothing happened between us again… I was angry about the ban, but kind of… relieved. I wouldn't have to deal with him again."

"_Harry_, why didn't you talk to me?"

"I felt disgusting."

"Harry, men's sleeping together is _not_ disgusting. But cheating on Ginny…"

"I know!" Harry screwed up his face in exasperation, horrified to discover tears drying on his cheeks. He brushed them away angrily. "It all happened so fast. I'm not going to lie about it, Hermione, it was _incredible_, his body… it was like nothing else, we couldn't stop, and that sounds _so_ stupid, and that just made me feel even more guilty, because I felt so bad for enjoying it… Afterwards we didn't say anything, just got dressed. I was terrified he'd put it about, but he didn't. I was on edge waiting for him to make his move against me all year. Every time we argued in school I thought it would be blurted out. People started speculating about Ginny and I, and none of it was true at all. I don't know why I'm even telling you now!"

Hermione smiled ruefully at him, "I can't say this was the sort of conversation I was expecting tonight, but I'm glad you told me. It's not good to let things eat you up."

"Yeah, well," Harry huffed and gathered her back into his chest again, "way to defer the conversation away from you and Ron, Bushy, I thought it was your love life on the cards, and here you are interrogating me!" They snickered, good-naturedly, the tension of the previous moments dissipating easily, as only teenage angst can.

"I don't want to talk about him anymore," said Hermione wearily, "it's a moot point at the moment. If he wants to ask me out he will. Maybe now isn't the best time for any of us to be contemplating relationships. If something happened to Ron, I don't know what I would do… it would be ten times worse if we were dating at the time."

"Oh, not going to miss me then?" joked Harry, trying to lighten the mood again.

"Nope, you're way too emotionally draining. Good riddance to you," she countered. Harry snorted. "I love you, Harry."

"Um, thank you."

"I love Ron too, and Ginny. I don't want any of us to die. But if we do…"

"Hermione, nobody is going to die. Okay? Besides, if I died for a good cause, maybe it wouldn't be so bad anyway. I hope you wouldn't do anything stupid like top yourself."

"Don't be an idiot, you know I never would. Hey, if Ron and I die before we get together, we'll both die virgins."

"Hermione! Too much information!"

"It's not too much information, unless you know something about Ron and Lavender that I don't –and don't want to know either, by the way- it's kind of romantic, really."

"Hermione, I didn't know you were such a sap. Come on, cheer up a bit, I thought we came down here to get away from all of this incessant doom and gloom."

"Okay…" Hermione paused for a moment, then blurted out, "When this is over could you please free Kreacher?"

Harry looked at her incongruously for a minute, then started laughing. After a pause, Hermione gave in to the giggles too. "Ra- random!" Harry managed through his laughter, the sofa vibrating with their mirth only adding to the sudden hilarity of the situation.

Hermione socked him in the chest, "I'm _serious_! I still haven't given up on S.P.E.W you know! Dobby and Winky are the tip of the iceberg, I'm deadly serious about this!" Unfortunately, her voice cracking under the force of yet another giggle attack, just as she said the word 'serious' rather ruined the sobriety of the statement.

"I hate to break it to you Bushy, but spew is never going to catch on."

"It is not _spew_, it is S.P.E.W!" Hermione spluttered indignantly.

"Spew, spew, spew!" Harry chanted childishly, grinning from ear to ear as the outraged girl tried to wriggle out of him tickling her, shrieking. It felt good to laugh like this, as though they wouldn't have to get up the next day with the rest of the troops currently laid out on the floor of the attic, ready and refreshed for another death-eater attack training session. Tonight they could be the kids they had never had the opportunity to be.

"Eep! Harry Po- Potter stop, stop, stop tickling me or I'll kick you where the sun doesn't shine!" Harry stopped tickling abruptly. Hermione snickered. "I see that got your attention."

"Yeah, well it would get yours too if you were the one who'd been hexed in said area only a few hours ago. Bloody Neville… and I always get partnered with him. You'd think he'd get someone more advanced to pair up with in training, but nope, it's always me."

"He can't be that bad."

"He can. You're lucky, you always get Ron or Ginny. They're good at wandwork. Nev's all over the place, it's a close thing I wasn't castrated!" he exclaimed indignantly. Hermione dissolved into giggles again. "Shut up, Bushy, or I'll tip you onto the cold floor," said Harry, crossly. She sobered a little.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, well."

The conversation subsided into silence for a while. The fire crackled in the grate, reducing itself to a cosy glow, reminding them that they should really go back up to the attic and try to get some sleep before the hectic training schedule timetabled for the next day. Harry rested his chin absentmindedly on the top of Hermione's head, pillowing his jaw on the unruly thatch of soft frizzy curls. In the quiet of the sleeping night, the ancient house creaked and murmured to itself. The books behind them had ceased their fretting, though the bookcases that held them creaked and groaned on occasion. It was an almost comforting sound.

Hermione wriggled to that she could slip her freezing toes under the cover of Harry's pyjama legs.

"Hey, you're making me cold."

"Brr. Be my blanket."

"I already gave you my hoodie."

"Hmm. Do you think we should go back up?"

"Are you tired?"

"Not really, but we've got a lot to do tomorrow. The attic's going to be freezing after being down here."

"Do you want to sleep down here? I can put some more wood on the fire, if there is any."

"Okay. Oof…" she leaned down to pick up her wand, "Accio sleeping bags!"

Hermione sat cross-legged on the sofa, cold feet folded under her, whilst Harry topped up the fire with the remaining kindling, which wasn't much. It was at times like this that he would have liked to summon Kreacher, but after Hermione's renewed vigour over S.P.E.W, he didn't want to push his luck. The sleeping bags glided silently into the room and over to Hermione. He turned. She was already wriggling gratefully into her bag, hoodie and all.

"Budge over."

"Gah, there's not enough room for both of us on this thing."

"Yes there is, you have loads of room, move it!"

"Hmm, cuddly."

"Pft, Hermione, your hair is in my mouth."

"I said there wasn't any room for both of us on this thing… Harry? _Harry_!"

"Hfnumblenum," Harry murmured, already dead to the world.

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When a searching Mrs Weasley entered the library the following morning, she encountered a wriggling Harry snuffling on the hearthrug, and a far more contented Hermione spread out comfortably on the sofa, looking rather more satisfied with her bed than the poor boy she had tipped off the side in his sleep.

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Please review below, with comments positive or negative, and may each reviewer sleep well under a shower of stars.

...skinnyrita...


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